


Validation

by Scrawlers



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Aromanticism, Asexuality, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQA, Post-Canon, aroace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Alan comes to a realization about himself after a proposition from Ayaka and subsequent discussion with Manon, and it leaves him with more questions than he can handle on his own. Fortunately, Professor Sycamore is always there to help him find the answers he needs.





	Validation

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month, one day before the deadline.
> 
> As always, Lizardon is Alan's charizard, and Gabrielle is Sycamore's garchomp. This takes place seven years post-canon, when Alan is 22.

“So anyway,” Manon said, and by this point she was turned sideways in her chair, one arm thrown over the back while her other arm rested on the table beside her empty plate, her back up against the side of the café, “what I was thinking is that I’ll enter this tournament, right, and I’ll pretend to be a complete novice, newbie trainer when I do. And everyone will be like, ‘hey hey, this girl is clueless, she has no idea what she is doing, this will be easy.’ But then I’ll get in there and cream ‘em all and win every match, and maybe even still look kind of clueless as I do so they think it’s just luck. But then in the end, I’ll win the whole thing and take home the prize!”

For a day in mid-summer, the afternoon was pleasantly warm. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun surrounded by fluffy clouds, the warm wind promising perfect thermals for when Alan and Lizardon went flying later. But that was for later; for the time being Alan was enjoying lunch with Manon at an outdoor café, though he couldn’t help but sigh as she rattled off her plan and he reached for his nearly empty coffee cup.

“Manon, you’re one of Kalos’ Elite Four. You can’t hustle other trainers at a tournament.”

“I’m not  _hustling_ them,” Manon said, and Alan gave her a flat look. “That makes it sound dirty.”

“You are, and it is.”

“And  _anyway_ ,” she added, more loudly to speak over him, “the tournament’s in Alola, at the Battle Tree thing, so no one will even know I’m a member of the Elite Four here.”

“Believe it or not, the Elite Four of the various regions are pretty well known. Your name and title are easily accessible to everyone around the world, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if tournament officials recognized exactly who you are,” Alan said. Manon blinked, as if taken by surprise, yet then flashed a satisfied smile. “Either way, if you start hustling other trainers you’ll make our League look bad. Enter the tournament if you want and take the whole thing, but don’t hustle anyone.”

Manon rolled her eyes. “I already said, I’m not  _hustling_ , I’m just pretending like I’m nobody—”

“You’re pretending like you can’t battle to get them to let their guard down before you sweep them. That’s the definition of hustling.”

Manon puffed her cheeks, aggravated, and it was amazing to Alan how she could still pout like a little kid despite being nearly seventeen years old. He supposed some things never changed. “Well, so what? Just because I’m a member of the Elite Four doesn’t mean I can’t have any fun. No one ever said this job wasn’t any fun!”

“This is a job with a lot of responsibility.”

“So? That doesn’t mean it has to be boring!”

“So you have to scam other trainers to have fun?”

“That’s not what I—!”

“Alan?”

Both Alan and Manon turned at the sound of the voice, and though the woman who had spoken and was now approaching the table clearly knew him, it took Alan a moment to place her. She was around his age, with long blonde hair drawn into a braid thrown over her shoulder, and purple eyes that were as bright as the smile on her lips. But what tipped him off wasn’t her eyes or hair, but her earring: encased in a silver pendant dangling from one ear was a rainbow-colored Key Stone, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of it.

“Ayaka?” he ventured, though he couldn’t keep the hesitation from his voice. It had been years since they had seen each other, but he thought—

Her smile grew, and she clasped her eyes behind her back as she walked up to stand beside their table. On the other side, Manon swiveled back around to face front.

“You remembered,” Ayaka said, and she laughed a little. “I can’t help but feel a little pleased about that.”

“Don’t be,” Alan said. “It’s not really saying much to be remembered by me.”

Ayaka chuckled again, and ducked her head for only a moment before she looked back up at him. “And so humble, too, after all this time,” she said. “I’d say that’s pretty impressive,  _Champion_.”

Alan didn’t know what to say to that (he was just being honest, his memory being what it was, and really he preferred it if people addressed him by his name rather than his title), so he shrugged.

Ayaka cleared her throat, and toyed with the end of her braid. “Anyway—I feel like running into you here is a stroke of fate. I’m actually in Lumiose for business, but I should be here for a little while. I was thinking, since the two of us ran into each other here like this, it might be worthwhile—or at the very least we  _should_ —catch up.” Her smile grew, her tongue poking between her teeth. “It really has been too long.”

“I . . . suppose,” Alan said, as Manon leaned across the table in apparent interest. He wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be ‘catching up’ on—it wasn’t as if they had ever spent a lot of time together, after all—but perhaps she wanted to have another match between Lizardon and her absol. That could be fun. “Are you free now, or . . . ?”

“Oh—no, I was thinking something a bit more formal. You know. A bit more special.” Ayaka clasped her hands behind her back again, and Alan frowned. There were no current tournaments in Lumiose—he of all people would know—and Ayaka was in town on business. So what sort of formal battle could she want? If she wanted to take the Champion challenge, that would need a League win— “There are a lot of restaurants in the city. I was thinking that we could pick an evening to check one out . . .”

“Oh.” Alan blinked. “You’re thinking of one of the battle restaurants. Sure, that’s fine—but only the employees battle with the customers there. They don’t allow customers to battle each other. So that won’t work, unless . . . are you working at one of the restaurants now?”

Across the table, Manon smacked her palm to her forehead. Ayaka, on the other hand, stared blankly at Alan for a few seconds before recovering.

“No, no,” she said. “I wasn’t talking about one of the battle restaurants, although I do think it would be fun to have dinner at one of them one night. I was talking about a normal restaurant.”

Alan furrowed his brow. “Why would we go to a normal restaurant? We can’t battle at all there.”

Manon buried her face in her arms as Ayaka, her cheeks starting to color pink, said, “Well, no, but we could eat dinner, and talk . . .” She trailed off, and after a second of awkward silence between them said, “You know, like on a . . . I’m asking you on a—” She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and then said in a stronger voice, “I thought it might be fun to go on a little date. You know, since I’m in town, and it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other . . .”

“ _Oh_.” It wasn’t so much that a realization had dawned on him as it was that Ayaka had spelled her intentions out, but Alan still felt like a haze of confusion had been swept away to allow for the sun to shine through instead.  _That_ was what she wanted—that was what she had wanted all along. Now he understood. And now that he understood, it was much easier for him to give her a direct answer. “I’m not really interested in that. Sorry.”

He partially regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. They were true—he wouldn’t go on a date with her just because she wanted to, when he wasn’t interested at all—but hurt flashed across her face in a stunned look that made it seem like he had doused her with water instead. Manon looked no less shocked; she stared at him, dumbfounded, even as Ayaka closed her own mouth and forced a smile.

“Oh. Well, that’s all right. It’s been a long time, anyway, and you’re probably in a relationship or seeing someone already, so—”

“No, I’m not,” Alan said, and even before Manon covered her face with her hands and Ayaka stopped, mid-sentence, to bite her lip he knew it was the wrong thing to say. In an effort to spare her feelings (in whatever little way he could now), he quickly said, “But I have a lot going on, as the Champion, so—”

“Right,” Ayaka said, and she cleared her throat again. “Of course. Well, I won’t keep you from it. Good luck with . . . whatever it is you’re doing. I hope you have a good day.” She looked over at Manon and smiled politely before she turned and strode away from the table, each stride far too fast to be casual.

The moment she was at least partially out of earshot, Manon exploded.

“What the hell was that?!” she demanded, and she flailed one arm in Ayaka’s direction. “That was—that was—that was a disaster! That was one of the worst disasters I’ve ever had to bear witness to! It was one of the most painful things I’ve ever had to watch! How could you make me sit through that?!”

“I didn’t make you sit through anything. You could have left,” Alan said.

Manon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It’s impossible to look away from a disaster that bad. You want to—it’s so terrible and awful you  _want_ to look away, but you can’t, because it’s so gruesome it holds your interest anyway, tighter than an arbok using Wrap.”

“I don’t think that comparison really works.”

“What  _was_ that?” Manon repeated, and she placed both hands on the table to lean forward, staring at him with accusing eyes. “How could you say no to that? Did you  _see_ her? Did you even look at her at all?!”

“Obviously I did.”

Manon threw her hands in the air, flopping back in her chair. “Then I don’t see how you could say no to that! She’s gorgeous, Alan! She’s hot enough to make the sun jealous! And she totally wanted you! How could you pass that up?!”

It wasn’t too unusual for Manon to get worked up over something trivial. In fact, Alan would say it happened regularly, given her penchant for overblown drama and shenanigans. But while he normally brushed her antics off (or, in some cases, found them amusing), he was struck by the sudden feeling that he was really not in the mood today. “I’m just not interested.”

“ _How_?  _Why_?” Manon pressed. “Is she somehow not your type or something?”

Alan shrugged. “Guess not.”

Manon was quiet for a moment, as if at a loss for words. Then she said, “Well, if  _she’s_ somehow not your type, then what is? Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone.” She narrowed her eyes shrewdly and leaned across the table again, her elbows on the surface, her chin on her laced fingers. “What’s all that about, huh? What kind of person are you into?”

Alan leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the sky. “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“What do you mean you never thought about it?” Manon demanded, aghast. “You’re like, old—”

“Thanks.”

“—so you had to have liked  _someone_ , at  _some_ point, even if you didn’t date them, right? There had to be  _someone_ at  _some_ time, right?” Manon pulled her PokéNav Plus4 from her pocket, no doubt jumping straight to social media, if Alan knew her (and he did). “Even  _you_  had to have a crush on someone at some point. Everyone does.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Alan said. As Manon scrolled through her PokéNav Plus4, an uncomfortable, fluttery sensation of anxiety flared to life in his stomach. “I just never did.”

“Come on—not even Steven?” She thrust her arm across the table to shove her PokéNav Plus4 in his face, showing him Steven’s FateBook profile. It was his private profile—the one only people he actually knew were allowed to Friend him on, versus the public one he used for everyone else—and as such, his profile picture was one Alan was pretty sure his many adoring fans would have killed for. “Lots of people like him, and I guess he is pretty pretty for a guy—” She paused, and then snorted a laugh. “Heheh. Pretty pretty.”

Alan shook his head. “No, I never liked Steven like that. We’re just friends.”

Manon puffed her cheeks, staring at him in disbelief as she pulled her PokéNav Plus back to her side of the table, and then said, “Well, what about that one guy who was so obsessed with you—Louie?”

“Who?”

“If that’s your answer, never mind,” Manon said. “So—how about Cosette? You’ve known her for a long time, right? So maybe at some point you guys had, like, a thing—”

“Cosette and Sophie are like extended family, or close family friends,” Alan said, as Manon heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I never liked her like that, either.”

“Then  _who_?” Manon demanded. “Serena? Iris? Gladion? If I ever manage to get a date with Lillie that last one could be fun, ‘cause we could double, although knowing him he’d pitch a fit if we brought it—”

“No,” Alan said flatly. “I’m not interested in teenagers.”

“Then who  _are_ you interested in?!” Manon demanded, smacking her hands against the table.

“ _No one_!”

Alan snapped more loudly than he had intended to, and the result was that the people milling about the street had now turned to look at them. He gritted his teeth and glared down at the table, and after a moment forced himself to bite out, “Just drop it, okay?”

Alan could hear the frown in Manon’s voice as she said, “Hey hey, there’s no need to get mad, I just don’t get it. Everyone has a type, so there has to be  _someone_ who’s yours. I mean, this world is filled with lots and lots of people! Look around, there’s people everywhere! All kinds of people right here in Lumiose, even, so there has to be  _someone_ you find attractive. Even if it’s, like, an old person. I wouldn’t shame you for that, ‘cause that’s more normal than—”

“I said  _drop it_.” Alan pushed his chair back and stood up before he reached across the table to swipe up Manon’s empty plate, stacking it on top of his own. He tossed their spoons into his empty coffee cup, and put that on top of the plates as Manon nudged her glass across the table. He rolled his eyes as he scooped it up and balanced it on the plates next to his own mug.

“Sheesh, you don’t have to be so touchy. I was just joking, anyway. I don’t think you’re really into old people,” Manon said, as she bounced up from her own seat to follow him back inside the café. As they entered, one of the baristas behind the counter caught his eye, and smiled when he held up their dishes. She pointed at the end of the counter, and he wove through the patrons milling about so he could stack their plates and cups in the dirty dish tray where the barista had indicated. “But if you were, that’d be totally cool! I mean, like I said, everyone’s gotta love someone, and if old people are your thing—”

“Did you finish your assessment of the Coumarine and Laverre Gym Leaders?” Alan asked, turning back to face her after their dishes were safely in the tray.

Manon’s mouth snapped shut, and chewed the inside of her cheek. After a few seconds (of calculated thought, Alan was sure), she said, “Didn’t Ayaka say she was here on business?”

“I’m going to take that deflection as a ‘no,’” Alan said, crossing his arms.

“Like you’re one to talk about deflections, bringing work up out of nowhere,” Manon shot back. “But anyway, listen—Ayaka said she’s here on business, so she’ll be here for a little bit, but not forever, right? I should take advantage of that.”

Alan narrowed his eyes. “Take advantage how?”

Manon scoffed, but a little smirk was curling on her lips. “Listen, just because  _you_ don’t want fries with that shake doesn’t mean  _I_ don’t. I’m gonna find her and woo her, and then—”

“No, you’re not.” Alan put his hands on Manon’s shoulders to gently nudge her toward the door, and she took the hint, even as she shot a scowl at him over her shoulder. “You’re a teenager, and she’s an adult.”

“So?”

“So that’s a felony.”

“Only if we get caught!”

“ _Manon_.”

Manon tossed her hands in the air as they exited the café, and spun on the ball of her foot to face him, an accusatory glare on her face. “Why do you have to be so cold about  _everything_? First hustling at the Battle Tree, and now—”

“So you admit you wanted to hustle?”

Manon’s eyes widened, but then she puffed her cheeks as she looked away, slowly backing away from him. “No,” she said, “but actually, about that, I just remembered that I need to go see when the next flight to Alola is . . .”

“Manon,” Alan said, but she ignored him as she continued backing away.

“And if I’m gonna woo Ayaka before I go, then I  _really_ should get going now, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“ _Manon_ —”

“I’ll have Clemont e-mail my Gym Leader assessments to you later! Bye, Alan!” Manon spun on the ball of her foot again and took off down the street, weaving between the pedestrians in an effort to lose what he was sure she thought was his pursuit.

Instead of chasing after, however, Alan let her go. He had enough faith in Ayaka’s integrity to feel that she wouldn’t respond to and take advantage of a teenager’s romantic advances (not that he knew her that well, admittedly, but he wanted to believe she was a good enough person to not respond, anyway), and he had a feeling that however hard she might try, Manon’s efforts at hustling at the Battle Tree wouldn’t get her very far. As clever and resourceful as she could be at times, Manon was a terrible liar. His advantage at having known her for years aside, Manon was the type to be honest before she realized what she was saying, her mouth running away from her even when (perhaps especially when) she was trying to keep a lid on it. However much she might play up the newbie card, Alan had a feeling that her natural tendency to showboat would blow her cover within the first round or two. It was only a matter of time.

So with Manon safe from everyone and everything but her own pride (and the looming deadline of her Gym Leader assessments), that left Alan with the rest of his day. Initially, he had planned on returning to his office at the League to tend to his own work. He was mostly caught up, but there were rumors that Parliament was going to once again try to push through legislature that would strip government subsidies away from Pokémon Centers under the argument that Pokémon Centers only benefited trainers at the cost of undue taxes from non-trainers. Where there was smoke there was fire, and Alan intended to snuff out this particular fire before it had a chance to grow in ferocity. Too many people, human and pokémon alike, would be hurt if Pokémon Centers had to start charging trainers fees for their services (or worse, had to shut down altogether due to a lack of funding). Alan refused to let that happen.

But while it was important to jump on the legislation that would be necessary to block such a bill from passing, the will Alan had felt earlier in the day to take care of it was all but extinguished. The stress from earlier still hadn’t left; though the conversation was over now, and Manon was traipsing around the city on a (likely fruitless) search for Ayaka, the feeling of anxiety swarming in his stomach had only grown in intensity. It wasn’t a—it was fine, really, that he hadn’t ever wanted to date anyone, wasn’t it? He wasn’t lying when he told Ayaka that he was busy. He had a lot of work on his plate, both with Champion duties and his research. And even if he  _wasn’t_  busy, it wasn’t really that big of a deal that he wasn’t  _interested_  in dating anyone, was it? It didn’t matter that he didn’t have any personal experience with having a crush, that the idea of having sex with someone— _anyone_ —made him feel a little squeamish, because while it was a perfectly normal thing that other people did, so was eating corned beef, and he didn’t like  _that_ , either. It was—well, maybe it wasn’t  _normal_ , but it—that didn’t mean it was  _bad_ , did it? It didn’t mean  _he_ was . . . it didn’t make him . . .

Alan shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he started down the street, in the opposite direction from where Manon had run off to.

**\- - -**

“Okay, now if we just—hey, none of that, please!”

At the sound of Augustine’s scolding, the litten who had been holding a mud-covered paw above a fennekin’s head froze. The fennekin, who had up until that point been completely unsuspecting of the litten’s prank, sat up straight, ears twitching. This worked against him; his head bumped straight into the litten’s paw, and—immediately feeling the mud now stuck in the fur atop his head—the fennekin leaped and bounded away from the litten, bristling angrily. The litten, for her part, started laughing, and smeared her paw against the grass to wipe the remainder of the mud from it.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Augustine said sternly. The litten turned her lamp-like eyes to him, unabashed. “You should apologize. You’re living here with all of us now; you should do your best to get along.”

The litten watched him for another second before she yawned, and curled up on the grass. The fennekin, taking this as a personal insult, inhaled deeply, cinders building in his throat. Augustine quickly scooped him up before he could attack.

“Now, now—there’s no need for  _that,_ either,” he said. The fennekin pouted. “Why don’t you go see Gabrielle, hm? She’ll help you get nice and clean. I’ll have another talk with our new litten friend to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

The fennekin looked no less displeased, but nodded nonetheless, and Augustine set him back down on the grass. After casting another dirty look at the litten (who didn’t bother to acknowledge him), the fennekin bounded across the lawn back to the lab, no doubt in search of Gabrielle. As the fennekin scampered off, Augustine looked back at the litten.

“You really are a handful, aren’t you?” he mused. The litten ignored him, and he sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Is that litten is still being a troublemaker?”

The voice that answered his question with another was unexpected, but delightful, and Augustine was beaming even before he turned and faced his visitor.

“Alan!” Augustine held out his arms as Alan neared, and Alan returned his smile in the same beat as he accepted the hug. Augustine’s own smile didn’t fade even when Alan pulled back. “I thought you were heading back to the League this afternoon to get caught up on your paperwork there.”

“I was—I am,” Alan said, and he slipped his hands back into the pockets of his coat. Augustine would be lying if he said he wasn’t still chuffed that Alan had picked one that, while suitable for traveling, resembled a lab coat so much. “But I thought I’d stop by to spend a bit of time here first. Is that all right?”

“Of course. I’m always happy to see you,” Augustine said. Another little smile flitted across Alan’s face, but it was brief, and something about it pinged the back of Augustine’s mind. A sixth sense of sorts, he supposed. “But is something on your mind?”

“What? No.” Alan’s answer was a little too immediate to feel natural, and little too odd, besides. There was  _always_ something on Alan’s mind, in Augustine’s experience. Not always something bad, no, but Alan was the type to always be thinking about  _something_ , whether it was work or recreation. To say “no” that quickly and that firmly . . . well, that was as good of a “yes” in Augustine’s book, and not the happy kind. But Alan looked past him, back down at the litten that was now staring up at him while rhythmically licking her front paw. “That litten is still having difficulties getting acclimated here, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Augustine said. Alan took a few steps closer to the litten before he sat down on the grass, and reached out one hand toward her. The litten had not removed her eyes from him, but as he extended his hand toward her, she pulled away from his touch, eying him shrewdly. Augustine shook his head and said to her, “Alan won’t hurt you. It’s all right to let him pet you.”

The litten glanced at him, and then back at Alan. Alan extended his hand a little farther, and that seemed to be the breaking point. The litten scoffed, short and irritated, before she pushed herself to her feet and bounded off toward the trees.

“Sorry about that,” Augustine said, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s a very stubborn one. She won’t even let me pet her half the time.”

“It’s all right,” Alan said, and true to form he didn’t sound offended. Augustine would have been surprised if he had. “I’ve never exactly been the best with cats. I don’t have as much experience with them as I do with others, such as—”

“ _Garar_!”

“—dragons.” Alan tilted his head back to look up at Gabrielle, who had bounded across the yard and landed behind him with a heavy  _thud_  in time with her shout. She placed her claws over his shoulders (securely enough to clearly be a hug from behind, yet gently enough so that she wouldn’t hurt him), and Alan smiled up at her just as she beamed down at him. Warmth blossomed in Augustine’s chest at the sight. “Hi, Gabby.”

“Ga, Garar,” Gabrielle said in response. Alan’s smile grew, and he patted one of her claws.

“I don’t know about that,” Augustine said, and when both Gabrielle and Alan looked back over at him, he clarified, “I think you’ve always had an excellent rapport with pokémon of all species, including cats. It all depends on the individual, and this particular litten is just something of a handful.”

“True,” Alan said, and he leaned forward, out of Gabrielle’s sharp embrace, as he stood up. “Anyway, what else have you got to do around here today? I’ve got some time, so I’d love to help if you could use it.”

“Certainly,” Augustine said, and Alan smiled. “I was just trying to help the fire-types practice before they’re adopted by new trainers, although that litten pranking the fennekin put an early stop to that. Speaking of which—Gabrielle, did you help that fennekin get cleaned up?” Gabrielle nodded, and Augustine grinned. “Marvelous! I knew I could count on you. Thank you.”

Gabrielle beamed, clearly (and deservedly) pleased with herself, and Augustine looked back to Alan. “Since the fire-types are taking a break for now, I figured I would check on the water-types next. The froakie and popplio still need to train so that they can better control their attacks when new trainers adopt them, and in addition to that I’m collecting data on a new diet I have the water-types on. Would you mind helping with that?”

“Of course not,” Alan said. He pulled Lizardon’s pokéball from his pocket, and released him with two clicks of the button. Lizardon materialized beside him in a flash of light, and despite how often Augustine saw him, he still couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback every time he saw how Lizardon now towered over the rest of them. 

Alan, of course, was unfazed. He turned to Lizardon with a little smile, and though Lizardon was briefly distracted as he beamed at and greeted Gabrielle and Augustine both, he turned back toward Alan readily enough when Alan patted his neck. 

“Hey, I have some work to do here. Mind spending some time with Gabby and the others while I do it?” 

Lizardon crooned, and happily bent down to bump his head against Alan’s palm. Alan’s smile grew, and he scratched Lizardon gently along his jaw before Lizardon turned back. Without wasting another beat Lizardon turned to Gabrielle, and the two of them began happily chatting in their own language. 

With a faint smile still on his lips, Alan motioned to Augustine, and turned in the direction of the pond. “Come on. Let’s go get started.”

Augustine smiled, and let Alan lead the way across the yard.

Alan, as per usual, was a fantastic help. He helped the froakie and popplio practice as Augustine took down data on the water-types’ reactions to their new diet, and likewise he guided the chespin and rowlet when it was time to check on the grass-types. When they had finished tending to the pokémon in the garden (and had taken a moment to watch Lizardon and Gabrielle as the two engaged in a playful game of close-quarters tag), they retired to the research room to go over the most recent data the two of them had compiled on both Z and mega evolution energy.

Augustine’s focus (and Alan’s as well) was still on mega evolution, truth be told. Despite how many years he had spent studying it, he wasn’t sure that he would ever lose interest in it. But over the past five years or so he had become increasingly aware of a new phenomenon known as Z-moves, generated by Z-energy that radiated between people and pokémon when special crystals were utilized in battle. While the differences between mega evolution and Z-moves were striking, so were the similarities. There was a potential link there, and that was one that neither Augustine nor Alan could ignore. So while their research was still primarily focused on mega evolution, they had also taken to studying potential links between mega evolution and Z-moves, as well as comparing and contrasting the energy needed to perform and generated by both acts. (Although Augustine usually tried to take care of anything pertaining strictly to mega evolution energy on his own. He believed Alan when Alan said that he could handle it—he knew full well how strong Alan was—but . . . well. There was no need to dredge up potentially painful memories if it could be avoided.)

While it had only been a few days since the last time they had sent each other anything pertaining to their research (neither of them having talked much about it when they had breakfast that morning), they still (and Augustine couldn’t help but laugh a little) both had things to share. Augustine passed off a new packet of information for Alan to peruse, while Alan pulled up some e-mails he had been exchanging with Professor Burnet’s assistant, Lillie, in Alola about recent surges of Z-energy in the archipelago.

“But do me a favor and don’t tell Manon that Lillie and I have been talking,” Alan said dryly, as he typed his e-mail password into a web browser on the primary workstation. “She’ll never stop complaining that I didn’t wingman for her if you do.”

Augustine laughed, and promised that he wouldn’t.

The silence that fell between them as they both looked over their respective materials was both normal and comfortable, and was punctuated only by Augustine occasionally typing something into the notes document he had pulled up next to the e-mail window, or the sound of Alan clicking a pen as he read over the packet Augustine had given him. But while that was normal, there was something about it that still, however inexplicably, felt a little . . .  _off_. Just as it had out in the garden, there was something pinging the back of Augustine’s brain. After only a few minutes of work the nagging sensation that something was off became too persistent for him to ignore, and so he chanced a look over at Alan. Alan was leaning back in his chair, his legs fully stretched out before him, the packet in one hand while he fidgeted with and clicked the pen in his other. At first glance, he looked completely engrossed in the packet. But the closer Augustine looked, the more he saw that although Alan’s brow was knitted together, he didn’t really look like he was concentrating, but rather like he was . . . upset. And for all that he seemed to be reading, it didn’t look as if his eyes were moving along the words on the page at all.

Augustine watched him for a moment more, frowning, before he asked, “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“What?” Alan froze, mid-pen click, as he looked up at Augustine. It took only a few seconds of patient silence from Augustine for Alan to recover, and he followed through on his pen click. “No. I mean—yes. Everything’s fine.”

“All right,” Augustine said, but he didn’t need to see the way that Alan’s lips twitched into frown, his expression somehow even more troubled than before as he looked back down at the packet he was trying and failing to read, to know that ‘everything’s fine’ was a lie. “But if there is anything you want to talk about, just let me know. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.”

“Yeah,” Alan said, clicking the pen again. He didn’t take his eyes off the page. “Thanks.”

Augustine nodded, and looked back at his computer screen.

There was no use in trying to force answers out of Alan. Or at least—it wasn’t  _impossible_  to pull answers out of Alan, to prod him into talking if need-be. Augustine did have some experience in that department. But unless it was an emergency, he didn’t like to. Pushing and poking at Alan to get him to talk always made him more upset before it helped, and that was a price that was only worth paying if the situation was dire, which this was not. At times like these, Augustine felt it best to give Alan the space he needed to sort through his thoughts. If and when he wanted to talk, he would. Augustine was sure of that. Until then, now that Alan was sure the offer was on the table should he need it, it was best to let him be.

So with that determined, Augustine returned to his work, at least as best he could. He scrolled down a little farther in the e-mail he had been reading, going over the paragraph Lillie had typed up recounting a recent battle one of the Melemele Village elders, Hala, had with Tapu Koko. But just as he finished reading the same sentence for the second time in a row to try and get the words to stick in his brain, Alan said, “I think that—do you think there’s . . . something wrong with me?”

Augustine blinked, and then looked back over at Alan with a frown. Alan hadn’t looked up; he was still staring at the page in front of him, even though it was clear he wasn’t reading it.

“No, of course I don’t,” Augustine said. “But I’m guessing there’s a specific reason why you’re asking that. Care to share?”

Alan was quiet for a moment, save for the continued rhythmic clicking of his pen. Then he said, “Do you remember Ayaka? She’s a trainer who uses mega evolution with her absol, and she participated in the League a few years ago.”

“Sure.”

“She approached me while Manon and I were having lunch, and . . . she asked me on a date.”

From there, the rest of the story spilled out. Alan explained how confused and lost he had felt for the majority of the conversation—how he had misunderstood what she meant when she said she wanted to catch up with him, and how he hadn’t realized what it was she actually wanted until she spelled it out. He explained how outraged Manon had been, and then how persistent she had been in trying to figure out what type of person he was attracted to—how she had been so sure that he  _had_ to have been attracted to someone, going so far as to suggest everyone from minors to the elderly.

“. . . but I’m not. I’ve never liked anyone like that. Not a single person.” Alan clicked his pen, twirled it between his fingers, and then resumed clicking it. By this point he had abandoned the research packet and had tossed it onto the desk, and was staring off at the opposite side of the room instead. “I’ve never wanted to date anyone. I’ve never wanted to have that kind of a relationship with anyone. Even now, thinking about it makes me feel . . .”

“Uncomfortable?” Augustine ventured.

Alan looked down at the floor, his jaw locked, before he said quietly, “This isn’t normal. I know it’s not. Everyone is attracted to someone, but I’m not. And I don’t know why this is. I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I can’t love anyone. I don’t know if maybe I was born like this, or maybe that part of me broke as a result of everything that—”

“No, stop,” Augustine said, and at long last, Alan looked back over at him. “That’s not true at all. You’re plenty capable of love.”

Alan frowned. “No, I’m—didn’t you hear what I said? I’m not—”

“I heard you say that you’re not attracted to people, but that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of love,” Augustine said. “You love Lizardon, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Alan said, and his answer was so immediate that Augustine couldn’t help but smile. “But that’s—”

“And you love me, and Gabrielle,” Augustine said.

“Yes,” Alan said again, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “But—”

“And Meyer, Clemont, Bonnie, and Manon,” Augustine continued. “You love them as well, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,  _but_ —”

“And I’m sure you love your other friends, too. Ash, Steven, Sophie, Cosette, Gladion and Lillie . . .”

“ _Yes_ , but—!”

“Then, you see?” Augustine smiled. “You love plenty of people and pokémon—so many that I can’t even name them all. You’re plenty capable of love, Alan. You’re one of the warmest people I know.”

Alan looked as if he didn’t know what to say. He turned his eyes back to the floor, the smallest of pleased smiles twitching at his lips before he pressed them together. After a moment he said quietly, “Thanks.”

Augustine smiled in turn. “I’m only speaking the truth.”

Alan started clicking his pen again, just as steadily and determined as before, and after another few seconds said, “But as much as I appreciate you saying that, it’s not what I was talking about.”

“I know,” Augustine said, and when Alan glanced at him from the corner of his eye, he continued. “You were talking about romantic love, and sexual attraction. But those two things aren’t the end-all, be-all of love. Romantic love is not the only love that exists, nor is it even the most important. And simply because you don’t feel romantic attraction or love for others doesn’t mean you can’t love them in other ways. In fact, you prove that you can, just by being yourself.”

“Okay,” Alan said. “But this still—I’m still not . . .” He gave the pen another few forceful clicks. “Knowing that still doesn’t solve the problem.”

“What problem?”

“I’m still not—I still can’t—” Alan took a breath, and exhaled it sharply. “I’ve still never felt that way about anyone. I’ve still never been attracted to anyone. And I don’t know if I can. I don’t know that I know how.”

“Well, it isn’t something that you really  _know_ , per se,” Augustine said. “Romantic and sexual attraction aren’t things you can learn. They’re simply things you experience, if you’re the type of person who experiences them.”

“And I’m not,” Alan said, and he huffed an unhappy laugh. “Once again, there’s something wrong with me.”

“ _No_ ,” Augustine said firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There never has been.”

“How can you say that?” Alan asked. “I’m—”

“I can say that because I’ve known you for the past seventeen years,” Augustine said. “I can say that because I raised you, and I can say that because despite whatever biases I may have in your favor, I still have a more objective perspective on you than you do, particularly when you’re upset.” Alan looked away, clicking his pen again, and Augustine said more gently, “If I thought there was something wrong with you, then I promise I would say so, because I would want to help you get better. But there is  _nothing_ wrong with you. You are not sick, and you are not broken. You are perfectly normal and well.”

Alan didn’t look at him. He continued to fidget with his pen, and chewed his tongue as he stared determinedly at the opposite wall. After a moment of watching him, Augustine turned back to the computer and opened a new tab in the web browser.

“Alan,” he said, “please come over here for a second. I have something I want you to look at.”

Alan hesitated for only a second before he rolled his chair over to the workstation, and in the time it took him to do that, Augustine pulled up the website for a reputable Kalosean LGBTQA center—and in particular, their page detailing aromanticism and asexuality. He scooted his own chair to the side so that Alan could have a more comfortable view of the screen, and then gestured to it.

“Please read that,” he said, “and tell me if it sounds familiar.”

Alan glanced at him only briefly before he did as requested. Unlike before, when he had tried to force himself to focus on the packet, his eyes skimmed along the lines on the website. And while he had started off frowning at it, his expression just as unhappy and skeptical as it had been before, the longer he read, the more his expression relaxed. There was still a pinch of confusion between his eyes, but it was tempered by a light of realization that Augustine recognized. By the time Alan finished reading and sat back, a look of stunned disbelief on his face as he still stared at the page, Augustine was smiling.

“Well?” Augustine prompted. “Does that sound familiar?”

“. . . Yes,” Alan said after a moment, and he looked back over at Augustine at last. “There are other people like this?”

“Like  _you_ ,” Augustine corrected mildly. “And yes, there are. Plenty of them, in fact.”

Alan looked back at the computer screen, and scrolled back up the page. “And it isn’t . . .  _caused_ by anything? I’m not like this because of anything—or everything—that happened?”

“Is being sexually or romantically attracted to others caused by anything?” Augustine asked. “Do people who experience attraction to others experience it because of something that happened to them in their lives?”

“. . . No. But—”

“Then why would aromanticism or asexuality be caused by anything, hm?” Augustine put his hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Alan, listen to me. There are plenty of asexual people in the world, and there are plenty of aromantic people in the world, too. And among all of those people, there are some who are both aromantic  _and_ asexual. It’s who they are—it’s how they were born. And those people are just as normal, and just as valid, as anyone who experiences any form of romantic or sexual attraction to others. If you are aromantic and asexual—and it sounds as though you are—then the same applies to you. You are normal. You are valid. And you are perfect just the way you are.”

Alan swallowed, and was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he looked back at Augustine, and asked quietly, “Really?”

Augustine wasn’t sure which part in specific Alan was referring to, but then, he supposed it didn’t really matter. “Absolutely.”

Alan looked away again, back down at the pen in his hands, and he slowly twirled it between his fingers. Augustine watched him for a moment, letting him have some time to his own thoughts, before he asked, “Do you feel a bit better?”

A small, but sincere and warm, smile unfurled on Alan’s lips. He nodded, and his smile grew as he looked back at Augustine, who could not help but smile in response.

“Yeah,” Alan said. “Thanks, Dad.”


End file.
